The Bold and the Belwas
by Jessom
Summary: Barristan Selmy and Strong Belwas find that there is more to being a Queensguard than protecting a monarch. As they face enemies within their own ranks, they will forge a new path for themselves. A path forged in fire and blood, love and lust.


Strong Belwas pressed his scarred, onyx-black chest against Ser Barristan's supple frame. The old knight had never felt quite so young as he did in this moment.

"Belwas, we cannot, if the queen were to find out..."

"If queen finds out I will say I was teaching you slave pit fighting stance."

"Very well then," Barristan said stiffly, his grandfather clock chiming in his breeches.

Belwas rubbed his hand on Barristan's nipples, making them harden.

"Belwas..." Barristan moaned, as the great Summer Islander began to suck.

"You not make milk like queen, I am dismayed," grunted Belwas.

_Has he had the queen_? thought Barristan, but before he could finish formulating the thought Belwas's morningstar slammed into his armoury.

_I haven't been taken from behind since the tourney melee all those years ago_, Barristan thought as his thoughts melted away like The Wall.

When they had finished consumating their love, Barristan rolled over to see Belwas's dugs, crested with nipples large as saucers, and wondered what it would be like to lick them. Lick them he did, his old tongue rough as sandpaper against the soft flesh.

"I think you can do better," rumbled Belwas, pushing his lips against Barristan's.

_Gods, I don't care if the queen finds out. I am no Queensguard, I feel half a boy again._

* * *

The sun's glare shone through the window like a scorned woman's gaze. Barristan the Bold had never felt so much a boy as when he bedded Strong Belwas.

"Gods, what have I done..." Barristan mused, looking at the hulking mountain beneath the sheets.

The mountain stirred in response.

"Old man talk too much. Give wood here."  
As Belwas bent to do his duty, Barristan considered how best to tell his queen of this unexpected turn of events. Amidst the warm feel of Belwas's thick lips, he found his answer.

"If I deliver her Daario's head she will have no choice but to rely on us, and therefore she will not question us."

Belwas unhitched mouth from member, spat the seed onto Barristan's chest, and grinned. "Belwas can do this duty almost as well as he chop wood."

"I hope you do both better than you swallow seed," Barristan said with a grim smile.

"Queen says slavers burned all the wood for ships, but Belwas knows of secret stockpile beneath the covers," Belwas said, thumping his chest against Barristan's, leaving an ugly red mark.

"Careful, go any harder and you'll crush me," Barristan grunted.

"Belwas could crush you anyway," said Belwas, grinning.

"Aye, but you'd have a lance through your belly before you'd spilled your seed," Barristan said, his tone jousting.

"Belwas, you've done a fine duty this day," Barristan said, his tone as cold as a silent sister's mound. "Please, allow me to knight you."

Bending down, Barristan gave a mighty suck, and Belwas blew his load after only three thrusts. Barristan swallowed Belwas's seed in a mighty gulp.

"That is what you are lacking. There is much and more I can show you of the seven sighs," Barristan said, straight-faced as ever, but his tone was playful.

"I dub thee Belwas the Bereaved, for today we kill our... companion."

Belwas grinned.

"Belwas have name for you after last night. Barristan the Besieged."

Barristan returned the grin.

* * *

That night, Dany was dreaming of Daario taking her in every orifice, when she was interrupted by Missandei, who she'd been using as a substitute, as it would not look comely to have Daario as a paramour. She was a queen after all, the mother of dragons.

"Your Grace, this one received a box from Ser Barristan this evening."

"I'm sure it can wait until the morrow. Why do you tell me this now, and not when you received it?"

"Well your grace, if you had seen it... This one would not have been able to comfort you, such would your rage be."

"Come now, if it was Ser Barristan that delivered it then it surely can't be anything too unseemly."

"Y-your Grace, this one beseeches you—"

"Hush, child. You do not want to wake the dragon, do you?" whispered Dany as a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes. She strode towards the box, gilded with golden lace, her small, firm breasts bouncing against the silk of her night garment. She lifted the lid of the box.

"No," Dany shivered. "No, oh, no. No."

She dropped the box, and as it clattered to the floor, the shaft inside rolled across the pale marble, its bulbous head dyed blue.

* * *

The moon was a dark and full as a Summer Island slave master. Ser Barristan walked into the Queen's chambers, clad in a green silk tunic and yellow breeches, stained white.  
"So, you would cling to your vows even after this... this foul jape?" she prodded, every word a dagger.  
"My queen, I did what I had to," said Barristan, glancing at the purple curtains blowing in the cool night breeze. In the pale light the breeze made a behemoth of the curtains as the fluttered.

"You did what was rash, and now the Stormcrows are baying for blood," bristled the queen. "Do you think with your head, or is Daario's punishment some act of self-loathing in disguise?"

Now it was the old knight's turn to bristle. "I will not abide such blights on my honour."

"You will abide what I command you to abide. I am the dragon!" said the queen, her tone like the ice that grows atop a northerner's beard.

"I served you because I believed you to be better than your brother. I still believe it to be so," said Barristan, his voice grave.

It was only then Daenerys noticed the old knight was reaching for his breeches.

"Do not presume to touch me!" screamed the queen. "Missandei!"

Missandei emerged from the terrace, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Your Grace, this one heard you—" Missandei started, before she was swallowed in the purple haze of the curtains.

"What..." Dany started, before something hard and wet slammed into her mouth.

"Your brother's mouth would not taste half as sweet oiling my clock," Barristan said with a grim smile.

The dragon queen tried to scream, but a dragon with its tongue tied is, in the end, just a lizard. Out of the corner of her eye the curtains lurched towards her.

_Gods, it feels like a great snowdrift bearing down on me. Is this what the country I wish to claim is truly like?_

She never felt the obsidian spear enter her murderhole. Only the cold...


End file.
